


Fated (Prologue)

by The_Word_Witch



Series: Fated [1]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Avengers AU, Eventual Romance, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Marvel Universe, Persephone!Reader, hades!bucky, marvel AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Word_Witch/pseuds/The_Word_Witch
Summary: Humanity has broken the world. How they did it doesn’t matter. What does is that in doing so they quickened the old gods once more.A century later things are settling into a new order. Hades, having taken the modern name of James, continues to begrudgingly fulfill his duties as an agent of Death in this realm. Until he meets you. Will he continue his eons-long sacrifice and serve Death or risk the delicate balance of the realm to be by your side?





	Fated (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> Blood, death (background character)
> 
> A/N:  
> I started thinking about a Hades!Bucky character after I saw that @invisibleanonymousmonsters (on tumblr) wanted to see a fic centered around a Hades!Bucky and Persephone!Reader relationship. I’ve never done anything like this but I have been dabbling in a Greek pantheon novel for literal years. So I’m sort of using this as an exercise to break out of the rut with that work and to see if I can work with building a “new” character out of the bones of Bucky. It’s an interesting challenge and idk how I feel about it yet but here’s kind of a prologue thing. 
> 
> Feedback would be AMAZING because I feel very out of my depth with this.

He runs his fingers through his long dark hair. Maybe he should cut it. That seemed to be the style men preferred these days. Short on the sides, almost to the scalp, length on top. No, he liked it long. The preferences of men never did interest him as it did his brothers.

Looking down at the dark navy and gold workings of his metal left hand he’s once again impressed by his nephew’s skill. Not a single hair snagged in the delicate joints. It brings a smile to his face knowing the care that was put into it. More care than Heph’s parent’s ever showed the boy. Well… he wasn’t a boy anymore, was he? Hadn’t been for millennia.

He sighs and looks in the mirror. Striking blue eyes flash under strong dark brows, a hard mouth, dark thick stubble not quite enough to be called a beard covering a sharp jaw. It had been almost a century since the gods awoke, the cold Ichor being brought back to blazing light by the hubris of men. Yet even after all these years, he was still settling into the feelings of once again being flesh. Still trying to see himself in the glass.

“James,” he intones. Would it ever feel quite right on his tongue? It was as good a name as any and certainly was more palatable to modern tongues than other names he had worn throughout his long existence like Aidoneus, Pluton (which had always been his least favorite), and of course Hades. James, was unremarkable, just like he liked it.

Heavily he sighs running the fingers of his right hand over the scars that connected metal and flesh. Like the name, it was a good body. Though battle-scarred and broken even in such a short amount of time. There were always battles to be fought. They would always call on him to fight them. After all… shouldn’t a god of Death herself be thrilled to be in the midst of a battlefield…

He sneers at his own reflection. No. He never wanted to be Death’s agent among the celestial beings of the earth. He took the title because his brothers would have rent the heaven’s and made the cosmos bleed in order to avoid the yoke of responsibility being Death’s consort gave one.

What did it matter? Choice, was never a boon he was granted.  

Sensing their master’s distress Cerberus paws at the door. The low whine from each dog perfectly in tune making it sound like one. He can’t help the smile that rises to his face. If nothing else at least fate had seen fit to give him his companion.

He opens the door and kneels down to the three massive black hounds, “I’m ok, boy.” Happily, they lap at his face. Though by all appearances they were three separate beings it was nothing but a clever glamour. Humans had adapted faster than expected to gods among them but a three-headed hell hound was rightfully unnerving to most.

With his ever perfect timing his brother’s obnoxious voice chimes in from the ether. “How’s my perpetually gloomy older brother today?” A wavering image hovers over the obsidian scrying disk revealing that ever smug smile.

“Not in the mood for whatever bullshit you have in mind Zeu-“

“Anthony, remember. We are doing the whole use modern names thing aren’t we? I get yours right every time Jimmy. It hurts that yo-”

James’ skin crawls. “It’s James.”

“Ever the ray of sunshine.”

“Hey, Brother!” Pos- er Steven’s golden head pops up from behind Anthony. He always had a soft spot for this one. Even if he was inarguably the moodier of the three no matter what Anthony said about James.

“If the two of you are calling it can’t be good,” he groans and falls onto the bed, the image of his brothers switching to the ceiling to stay in his line of sight.

“Just thought we’d check in on you bruv!” Anthony had a thing for human slang. It was obnoxious.

“Yeah. Sure you are.”

“Just tell him,” Steven hisses at Anthony.

“Well… there is something. A bit of a skirmish is kicking up in the midwest, some factions and a demi-god, not one of mine,” his brother was known for his messy children so the distinction was warranted.

“And you want good ol’ Hades to put the fear of Death in them?” They both smile like idiots. He groans again, louder. All he wanted was to be left alone. Was it too much to ask?

“If you could,” Steven pipes up. “If you’re not too busy. I’ve got a lot on my plate and Anthony-“

“I’ve been whipping together some new toys. Speaking of how’s the new arm?”

“Your kid did a great job, almost as good of a job as you did blowing it off.” James wanted to be sure his brother never forgot.

“It was almost a century ago. Let it go.” Anthony’s voice is wheedling. It’s all the more annoying because his brother was notoriously terrible at letting anything go… ever.

“I’ll take care of it,” not like he had a choice.

“Thanks,” they call out, almost as in tune as Cerberus.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t let them say anything else, swiping his hand in the air to break the connection.

Sighing he sits up and flexes his arm, looking at how the light reflects on the surface. The humans used to depict death with a scythe. How long would it take for them to change the image to a dark man with a deadly arm instead? Not long he figured. Fear was a powerful thing.

And everyone feared Death.

* * *

You stare at your hands, bloody and shaking. The child shrieks behind you as Mother and Calli tend to its tiny form. It would live. Another orphan among thousands… millions on this broken world but the mother… Desperately her right-hand reaches weaker my the second still longing to feel her child in her arms.

“Kore,” your mother hisses. “Come away. She’s lost.”

But you can’t. Wiping your hands on your clothes you kneel beside the woman and take her reaching hand in your own. Her mouth hangs open as if her words have been stolen from her.

“She is Death’s now,” Calli says softly from the baby’s side. “Leave her be. There is no room for the dead here, child.” You glare at the two women.

They won’t even deign to look behind them at you and the woman. A soft sob comes from her, so faint you almost wonder if you imagined it and your attention returns to her.

“Shh,” you whisper in her ear. “You did your best. Your son will live.” Reaching into your pocket you pull out one of the old smooth coins you always keep. “Here,” you slip it into her hand, “for the ferryman.” Her eyes look like that of a frightened rabbit and your heart hurts. “I’m sorry.”

“That is enough, Kore!” Mother bellows with the force only a goddess can muster. It makes your hair stand on end. She still won’t spare you or the woman a glance. Quickly you kiss the woman’s forehead and rise. “Come tend this new life and stop wasting your time on one that is over.”

“She can hear you still, Mother,” the woman’s small heartbeat still tings in your ears.

“What does it matter?” She’s slipping tiny socks onto the baby boy’s feet. “Humans die every second. We are shepherdesses of life daughter. We don’t sully our hands with death.”

Calli nods in agreement and offers you a warm smile. You don’t return it. Instead, you focus on the child, now quieted by being given a bit of milk with the smallest drop of Ichor to fortify the small thing. Life pulses around him, hot white strands of light, so bright it almost hurts your eyes.

They always thought about life, her mother and Calli. Preserve life. Nurture life. Make things grow, make them thrive, heal this broken earth. They never wanted to talk about from where life came. Never wanted to acknowledge that even a plant must destroy its seed in order to grow. As far as you could tell all life sprung from the death of something else. Even this life you were all living, similar as it was to a distant past, was built on the ashes of humanities fall.

The old unsettling thought rises to your mind. The other gods spoke of ages past but you remembered nothing of those times. Mother said it was simply your youth- the woman makes a small sound, throwing off your train of thought and you know she’s gone.

Suddenly, the room feels too tight. You bolt, ignoring Mother’s call. Your feet echo in the hall as you run, desperate to be outside, to feel the earth beneath your still bloody hands, to breathe air that didn’t smell of birth and death.

Bursting from the doors you stumble into the courtyard, surging with plant life. It’s here too though, you can smell it. The decay from which the life springs. It overwhelms you. Every rose suddenly seems sinister in its beauty, every apple inherently vile.

Something that has been brewing inside you is reaching its peak. This was the fifth maternal death in the last week. And you’d lost count how many you had seen die in such a way over the decades you worked by Calli and your Mother’s side here at Eleusis House. Too many. Some girls you had brought into the world only to see them die years later in the same place they took their first breath.

You stare up at the steeple of the building, once a holy place for some now silent god. Something like a memory tickles at the edges of your mind, songs, a dry cracker being placed on your tongue. Shaking your head you look away. These echoes always came when you were upset. Mother said you were just being dramatic as young goddesses are wont to be from time to time. She’d then tumble into some tale about Hera you didn’t care about hearing.

“Kore?” Abigail stands at the door of the main hall staring at you, concern on her face. It takes a moment to understand why. You’re covered in the gore of a messy birth still and… when you look at your hands you notice the sheen of magic surrounds you. “Are you ok?”

Abigail was a kind person, one of the women who pledged to serve Eleusis House. She and her sisters helped find women who were with child and without resources. They would be safe and cared for here, better than anywhere else. Mother had made this place a haven, clearing a whole block of the city surrounding the compound that was already there to make a small piece of paradise.

The humans thought it was a kindness. Overwhelmed how these new gods cared for their fragile lives so much. You know that without the humans the balance of the world would tip and everyone would die. It wasn’t kindness to protect the humans. It was survival. Still, she liked helping them, and Abigail was something like a friend.

“Yeah. I just… needed some air.”

Abigail looks at your bloody clothing, “Danielle didn’t make it… did she?” Danielle. You hadn’t even known the woman’s name. You just shake your head. Abigail stares into the distance, her gauzy head covering marking her a servant of Demeter blowing in the breeze.

“Her son lives though,” you hope it’s a comfort.

“Small victories are still victories,” she sighs out. Thought creases her brow, “Who will he go to?”

It was March 21st. “He’ll be sent to a house of Ares.” The system had been worked out almost a century before. A crude but effective way to ensure the orphans had a place to belong by sorting them based on birthdate.

Abigail snorts, “And to Hades before 30.” She likely wasn’t wrong. Children of Ares died young, fighting some battle or other. It was the way of things. “I… I’ll tell the others and send someone for the body.”

“Thank you,” Abigail just nods and heads silently back to the main hall.

Your eyes wander to the rise of the skyline peeking over the barrier wall, covered in lush night-blooming vines. To your memory, you had never left this enclave nestled in the city once known as New York. Existence began and ended here for you, though you knew that couldn’t be right. Like all the gods you had lived before only to sleep away centuries… You shudder.

Regardless, it wasn’t a bad life. There was so much work to do. Plants to help heal the scorched earth as well as medicinal herbs for the blights threatening humanity needed to be cultivated and sent out. The women who came here needed shelter, healing, and someone to watch them tear themselves open… For decades you took comfort in this. Now… it wasn’t enough.

This growing awareness of death was bringing everything Mother told you was worth paying attention to in this world into question. Causing a restlessness within you nothing could quell. You begin to pace this section of garden, stopping before a small apple tree.

The golden ones were just about ready to pick and you run your fingers over the thin skin of the fruit. You can feel the glowing tendrils of light within it, connecting it to the tree, to the roots, to the earth herself. Life bright and beautiful pulsing there.

Your mind goes foggy for a moment. It’s as though something else takes hold of you then and you begin to pluck at those strands of light with an invisible hand. One by one they snap. Little rivulets of light like blood drip from the withering fruit down your palm.

When you fully realize what you’ve done you gasp and pull away. The apple hangs there swaying a bit, shriveled though not necessarily rotten before it falls, devoid of the light it held a moment before, to splatter on the ground below. An instant later, it’s dust. 

What had you done…?


End file.
